Regrets Collect
by fatalxdesiresx
Summary: AU story set post-3x20. Sam/Owen seeks out an old flame. So far I only plan on this being one chapter, but if I get enough feedback I'll write more.


He could still feel a bit of Owen inside him. His thoughts, his personality. His loyalty to and love for Nikita. That was what got under Sam's skin the most. Nikita. A part of him wanted to forget her, but there was another part of him - Owen, undoubtedly - that wouldn't let go. And no matter how hard he tried his love for Nikita stayed with him. He'd return to her eventually. He knew he would. It was only a matter of time. All roads, Sam realized, led back to Nikita. She had always known what was best for him and she still did. _She_ was what was best for him.

However, Sam still needed to do this. He needed to see Morgan. Before Amanda had wiped his memory as Sam and replaced him with Owen, before Nikita - before all that there had been Morgan. As soon as Sam got his memories back he remembered her. How much he'd loved her. Even though his morals had been questionable back then; even though he was in love with Nikita - he was still in love with Morgan. And he had to know how she was doing.

He wasn't sure where else to go, to be honest. He doubted Nikita would take him back right away. Morgan was his first idea. He only hoped he was right and that she would see him. There was only one problem: she thought he was dead. He didn't care. He needed somewhere to go and she was his only option.

Parked outside her home, which suited her or at least how he remembered her, Owen noted the time on the dashboard and sighed when he had now been parked outside her place for three hours. She wasn't home. At least, he didn't think so. Her car was here, but all the lights were off in her place. There'd been no sign of movement the entire time he was here and it was only ten o'clock. He remembered Morgan being a night owl, staying up as late as she possibly could even when she'd had to work the next day.

Finally deciding, Owen turned the car off and got out, making his way across the street, up the driveway. He stalked along the side of her house first, peering in the windows. Nothing. He walked around to her backyard, pushing open the gate cutting it off from the outside world. It was neat out back. Morgan had her own little garden and a patio, two chairs with plump cushions, a rectangular table between them. He liked it. It was her.

Heading back around to the front, he went up onto the porch and peered through the windows there. Everything looked normal. Too normal, too perfect. His gut told him something was off. Pulling a leather pouch out of his jacket pocket, he pulled out his tools and picked her lock, slowly heading inside. He walked with light footsteps, not wanting to cause the floors to creak. The house looked old, so he had no doubt it let out its aches and moans every night.

He had just passed the living room and was heading into the kitchen when all of a sudden an elbow appeared and smacked him in the face. A pair of hands followed the elbow, grabbing Sam by the shoulders and throwing him against the wall. Sam raised his hands just in time to protect himself from getting kicked in the ribs and then grabbed his attackers leg and jerked it so that the person spun and then fell to the floor. He heard a feminine cry and looked up, hoping what he was going to see wasn't what he thought he was. He hated being right sometimes.

"Morgan?!" he asked.

Morgan had gotten back up and started for Sam, but Sam grabbed her by the arms and spun her around, pressing her against him and holding her arms captive. Hearing her name startled Morgan, but she still fought. "Let me go!" she roared. Since she couldn't use her hands, she pushed herself back and pushed Sam into the wall. He let out a grunt, letting her go and as soon as he did she whipped around to look at him.

The moon cast a dim light over the man's features and Morgan recognized him but tried to rationalize with herself it couldn't be Sam. He was _dead_. He'd been dead for several years now. But what she was seeing - no, she had to turn the lights on to be certain that this wasn't really Sam.

"Jesus." she said, once she had the lights on. Sam was standing in front of her, doubled over, his hand reached around to his back and holding it in pain. "How are - what - I." Her eyes growing wide with anger, she rushed over to him and shoved him into the wall again. "How dare you!" she exclaimed, punching him before spinning around in anger, clutching her hand and trying to calm her breathing.

"Nice to see you, too," Sam said, opening and closing his mouth to stretch out the muscles to make the punch he'd just received not hurt so much. If he'd known she could defend herself like this he wouldn't have snuck in and caused his body so much damage.

Morgan turned around and glared at Sam, not amused. Looking up, Sam finally soaked in the sight of her. What he saw startled him, though. Her hair was still the long length he remembered, the same dark color. She had the same olive skin tone. She looked almost the same except for one thing: a scar that stretched from the corner of her eye and down to her mouth. "What happened to you?" he asked, wanting to take a step towards her, reach out and trace his fingers along the scar, but he didn't.

At the question, Morgan seemed to grow self-conscious, like she wanted to shrink to the smallest size possible so Sam couldn't see her. "It happened after you died," she said, putting heavy emphasis on the last word. "I'm not the same person you once knew, Sam," she added. The more Sam studied her, the more changes he saw.

First was her body. She was more sculpted and athletic, but she was still just as voluptuous as she had been when they'd been together. If anything, her curves were more noticeable now. Second were her eyes. They weren't as warm and welcoming as they'd been. She was colder. More distant. The way she was holding herself at the moment told Sam she was wary of him and he couldn't really blame her.

"What happened" he asked, and as soon as he asked that she grew outraged. "What happened to me?!" she yelled, storming over to him. "What the hell happened to you?" she said, shoving him in the chest. "You're supposed to be dead, Sam. Dead. So how are you here? What exactly happened to you?" She had shoved him several more times, frustrating Sam to the point where he grabbed her roughly by the wrists and pulled her to him. Morgan sucked in a breath, unnerved to find herself so close to the man she once loved and had believed, until only minutes ago, to be dead.

"I did die. Or a part of me did," Sam explained, gazing down at her. Her eyes made his heart ache. They were the same exact shade as Nikita's. There were so many similarities between Morgan and Nikita he now saw and it troubled him. "It's all a long story and involves a place I'd rather not think about. Not right now."

Glaring at him, she wasn't satisfied by his reply. Morgan yanked her hands out of Sam's grip and turned away from him. She was filled with an indescribable amount of bitterness, hatred…and sadness. Sam brought back memories that had taken her so long to bury because they had hurt her. Memories of a happy ending she had wanted but not gotten, and never would. She was too deeply involved in an agency and could never get out. She'd been hiding for two years now. If Sam could find her, could they?

"I don't want you here," she finally said, her voice stern and devoid of emotion. She kept her back turned to Sam, afraid if she looked at him her knees would buckle underneath her and she'd cave in.

"Morgan, please," Sam began, not sure how to continue. He hated being at a loss for words. He'd been forceful with Amanda to the point of scaring her and now he was feeling timid around Morgan? He was uncomfortable with it.

Slowly turning around, Morgan stared at Sam with her eyebrows creased and her lips pursed, her arms crossed over her chest. "Why did you come here? What'd you expect to gain?"

Sam opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to speak but failing. Things weren't going how he had imagined, not one bit. "I - I needed a place to stay," he finally said, looking at her in all his vulnerability for the first time since regaining his memories as Sam. Around Morgan he felt like he could be vulnerable, even if it was uncomfortable to him. He'd only ever been vulnerable around Nikita. Well, Owen had. "And you were - I thought of you. I know I've a lot of explaining to do. And I think you do, too." Morgan nodded, so Sam went on. "I want to tell you, but it's a long and complicated story.'

"Try me," Morgan replied, without missing a beat.

There was only one word he needed to say. The word of the people who had taken his life away from him yet had given him a new one as Owen. He didn't regret meeting Nikita and falling in love with her, but he did regret the things he'd done before that. Owen was seeping back into his mind, making Sam confuse himself with Owen again. "Division."

"Division," Morgan whispered, immediately dropping her arms as her eyes widened for a second time and her lips parted - whether in shock or fright he wasn't sure. "You're Division?!" Morgan exclaimed, and this time he knew she was freaked out.

And yet…

How'd she know about Division? Only two types of people knew about it: people a part of it and people in the government trying to destroy it. So how did someone who'd been studying medicine when he first met her know about it? "How do you know about Division?" he asked her sharply.

"Because I was Division," she answered. She'd been in Division since she could remember. After Sam had died, she'd left. She'd ran and hid for years. She had suspected Percy of ordering Sam's death. She had, after all, gotten involved with a civilian and that was against the rules. "How do you -?"

"Division, too. Bitch named Amanda wiped my memory as Sam and replaced them with memories of Owen," he said, sighing. Sam went over and took a seat on the edge of the couch, looking up at Morgan who had her arms crossed and was listening intently to him. Learning she'd been Division when they'd met unsettled him, but he wasn't mad. How could he be? But he did wonder what all she had lied to him about. "I just got my memories back, Mor."

Hearing his nickname for her made Morgan look away. Not out of the reasons he was thinking - that she hated it, that it made her uncomfortable. Well, it did make her uncomfortable, but also because she had missed being called Mor. Especially by him. And looking at Sam now was reminding her how much she'd ached for and missed him over the years.

After some hesitation, Morgan went and sat down beside Sam. It felt a bit awkward, being so close to him after believing him dead for so long. What made it even more unbearable was that she realized she still had strong feelings for him. He couldn't see it, but around her neck she wore her engagement ring. Even after all these years she kept it, touched it every day in absent thought.

Morgan finally turned to look at him and found Sam's gaze on her. His intensity made her chest flush with heat, but she didn't look away. Lowering his gaze to her neck, he reached out and found her necklace, pulling it out of her shirt to see something he didn't think he'd ever lay eyes on again. "You kept it," he said, matter-of-factly. At the same time, he found it hard to believe.

"Yeah," she said, her voice soft. She studied him, wanting to reach out and brush his cheek. Do something. But she suppressed any of those urges and kept her hands clasped in her lap. "How could I not?" she asked, looking down. She placed her hand on Sam's wrist, hesitating a moment. She had missed the feel of him and touching him for the first time in all these years made her to never want to let go. Morgan went against every bone in her body and pulled his hand away and stood up, leaving Sam feeling rejected.

"You can have the couch," she said, starting to rearrange what all they'd disrupted out of its place when they had fought, which caused her to smirk.

"Thanks," he said. He deliberated on if he should really spend the night here or just leave. He didn't want to spend another night on the road, though. He was tired and wanted somewhere more suitable to sleep. A couch would do just fine.

They parted ways, Morgan heading up to her bedroom. She locked the door despite telling herself Sam wouldn't hurt her. Getting into bed, her head was filled with thoughts of Sam, what had happened to him in Division. What if she had stayed in Division? Would they have met? God, how would she have reacted, seeing her dead fiance in the place she had suspected of killing him? All those thoughts drove her crazy enough to hit herself on the side of the head before rolling over onto her side.

She never fell asleep, though, and neither did Sam, not until a couple hours after Morgan went upstairs. Nikita plagued his mind, as did Morgan. The fact he now had feelings for two women confounded him. He didn't like feeling this way. He hated falling in love but at the same time falling in love had caused beautiful moments in his life - moments with Nikita _and _with Morgan.

Giving up on sleep, Morgan got out of bed and headed downstairs in her shirt and underwear. She leaned against the wall, watching Sam for several minutes. He didn't stir as she watched him, so she figured he was fast asleep. Slowly, she walked over to him and as she looked down at him she smiled. Morgan's walls crumbled and she felt warmth slip into her heart for the first time since Sam's 'death.'

Kneeling down by his head, she carefully lifted her arm and ran her fingertips along his forehead and then through his hair. She touched him lightly, not wanting to wake him up. The thought of him seeing her so vulnerable right now scared her. Heart beating fast, Morgan moved her gaze to his hands, where she placed one of her own on top of his. Sighing and closing her eyes, Morgan lowered her head and pressed it against the side of Sam's, remaining like this with him for the rest of the night.


End file.
